“I punched him hard on the cheek and hecollapsed. Look at my knuckles. I may’ve broken them.”
“Was he layin’ in wait there?”
“No, no. He was trying to extort money fromme. But I had no cause to strike him. I intended to haul him downto the police quarters and have him dealt with there. But I lost mytemper, I – ”
“An’ you decked him, eh? That’s pretty muchwhat I’d’ve done, lad. No need to make a fuss about it. A villain’sa villain.”
“But I might’ve killed him.”
The young man was clearly distraught. “A tapon the cheekbone never killed nobody,” he said, helpfully, as a manof much experience in such matters.
“Would you go back there with me, Cobb? Ishould never have run off. I don’t know why I did.”
“Human nature, likely. I’ll go down thereright now, but there’s no need fer you to come. Why don’t you goalong to our quarters? The Sarge an’ Gussie, our clerk, are workin’late tonight. You can tell the chief yer version of what happened,whilst I wake the bugger up an’ drag him back there as soon as Ican.”
“Yes. Yes. I think that’s for the best. Thankyou.”
“No need to thank me, lad. It’s been a borin’night – till now.”
***
As Brodie approached the new police quarters at therear of the City Hall, he was relieved to see a light still on inthe reception area. The ten-minute walk here had given him time tocatch his breath and get a grip on his nerves. He also began tothink clearly for the first time since he had grabbed theblackmailer by the lapels. It seemed that, inexplicably, the fellowhad got wind of Diana’s indiscretion. He had, had he not, mentioneda baby girl in Montreal? Many people knew that Dianahad come from Montreal to serve as governess to Robert Baldwin’schildren. The reference to the baby girl could have been a luckyguess, but then if it had proved a wrong guess, the entireblackmail scheme would have collapsed. The villain, whoever he was,must know something. And if Cobb succeeded in hauling himbefore the law, would he blurt out what he did know, as hehad threatened to? Would he be believed? That was a chillingthought, for it was not only a question of Diana’s suitability as awife (he loved her and had already forgiven her everything) but ofher general reputation. Bearing a child out of wedlock, althoughcommon enough, was damaging to women of the “better classes” orthose in positions of trust, like tutors or governesses. Diana’semployer was a kind and a fair man, but at the moment – in thedelicate political climate – he could not afford to have theslightest breath of scandal blow over his household. He would haveno choice but to dismiss Diana. She was devoted to those children.She would be devastated. And that, of course, was the reason he haddecided to confront the blackmailer and end the threat. But it nowappeared he had made the situation worse.
In addition to this anxiety, Brodie wasextremely upset with himself for the intemperate nature of hisoutburst in the alley and the fact that, in striking the fellow inresponse to a mere verbal threat and an ineffectual knee in thethigh, he had broken the law – by using excessive force. He hadbeen raised in a legal household. Both his father and the man whobecame his guardian were lawyers. Brodie had been taught to reverethe law, and abhor violence. In one blind, passionate moment, hehad violated both codes.
He entered the police quarters to find thechief constable, Wilfrid Sturges, sitting at a table besideAugustus French, the police clerk. They were poring over a pile ofofficial-looking papers.
“Good grief, what brings a lusty lad like youin here on a Wednesday evenin’?” Sturges said to Brodie in hisbluff, friendly manner.
“It’s a long story,” Brodie said.
“Well, then, let’s hear it, lad. Gussie hereneeds to give his nib-finger a rest, eh, Gussie?”
Gussie had not bothered to look up at theintruder. Nothing short of an earthquake under his chair coulddissuade him from finishing a sentence once he had started it. Hegrunted an indeterminate response and speeded up his nib-finger,splattering ink in three directions.
“You look like you stepped on a ghost’spetticoat,” Sturges said, pulling out a chair and motioning forBrodie to sit down opposite him. “Somethin’ happen out there? Ithought this was the night of yer Shakespeare meetin’.”
“Yes, sir. It was. But I damn near killed aman afterwards.”
“How?”
“I punched him – hard – on the leftcheek.”
Gussie’s quill pen stuttered, then movedon.
“Then you better come into the office wherewe can talk about it undisturbed.”
“Yes. Thank you. But I’d like Mr. French tocome in with us.”
“Gussie?”
“I’d like to make a formal statement aboutwhat happened half an hour ago – a sort of confession.”
“Jesus, Brodie. This sounds serious.”
“I’m afraid it is, sir.”
***
While Wilfrid Sturges listened and Gussie Frenchtook notes in his private shorthand, Brodie told his story. Hebegan with the extortion note he had received the previousWednesday evening, providing all the details except the specificnature of the blackmailer’s secret knowledge.
“It was a vague and obviously wild threatagainst Miss Ramsay,” he said, fearing of course that more damningparticulars could be revealed if the fellow was apprehended. “But Ifelt her honour was at stake.”
“So you planned to confront the fellow andbring him to us?” Sturges said, trying to be helpful and stillmystified as to why this upstanding young man was insisting onconfessing to a common assault when it was likely that the victimhad already come to and scarpered – happy to have escaped with abruised cheek.
“Yes. I prepared a parcel of fakebanknotes.”
“Did you keep the extortion note?”
“No. I destroyed it.”
“Ah. It might have been useful. Still . . .”
Brodie then recounted, move by move, what hehad done after leaving the club, up to the moment when he hadcornered the culprit and had begun to thrash him.
“I meant to bring him here, sir. I reallydid. But he said something repugnant about Miss Ramsay and – ”
“And you gave him what he deserved?”
“I assaulted him. Viciously. He collapsed,unconscious.”
“But he was breathin’?”
“Yes. I made sure of that – before I . . .ran.”
“An’ you only give ‘im the one knock on thecheek?”
“Yes. That was enough. I don’t know why but Ipanicked and – ”
“No need to take on so, lad. Even if thischap makes a complaint – an’ there’s less chance of that thanGussie misspellin’ a word – it’s only a common assault charge, amisdemeanour.”
“Even so, I’d like Mr. French to write up astatement for me to sign. The law is the law: I was raised tobelieve that.”
True enough, Sturges thought with a sigh. Buthe had seen many a barrister – including Brodie’s guardian andidol, Richard Dougherty – give it a few twists and turns in acourtroom. “Well, son, if you insist. But why not wait to see ifCobb brings the bugger in here, an’ we can sort this all out infive minutes or less?”
“I’d like to get my account on the recordfirst,” Brodie said.
“As you wish. Gussie, poise yer pen!”
***
Twenty minutes later Gussie finished writing up aone-page statement. At the table in the main room, Brodie read itthrough and signed it. He had just handed it to Sturges to add hissignature as witness when the front door opened and Cobb camein.
He was alone.
Looking relieved, Sturges said to him, “Sothe villain buggered off, did he?”
“No, Sarge. I found him in the alley behindThe Sailor’s Arms, just like Brodie said.” He glanced across atBrodie, seated beside Gussie.
“Then where is he now?” Sturges said,catching the alarm in Cobb’s face.
“Right where I found him.”
“Out cold?”
“No, sir. Dead as a doornail.”
Brodie’s head shot up. “But I only hit himonce on the cheek!”
“That ain’t what killed him. His skull wascrushed in. Somebody bashed him good an’ proper – withthis.”